Beginning
by ljae
Summary: This is a continuation of Devil's Trap with my own twist. The aftermath of the brutal car crash has resulted in one death and many questions.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N- continuation after Devil's Trap. Sorry about the weird paragraphs, ff. kept on changing them on me... I'll try to figure it out for future chapters._

**beginning**

The door of the semi opened slowly and a man stepped down onto the pavement. He unhurriedly made his way to the mauled vehicle

pressed against the grill of the eighteen wheeler. Cold eyes flared fluorsescently as he observed the motionless occupants of the remains

of the Impala. The possessed man strode purposely towards the driver's side and smashed through the window. He sliced away Sam

Winchester's seatbelt and bodily dragged him from the vehicle. With unnatural strength, the demon placed Sam's weight across his

shoulder and turned to face the night.

Muffled talking. Dean tried to listen to the what the voices were saying but couldn't turn the many sounds into comprehensible words.

There was a barrier of water between his auditory senses and the noises. The water magnified volume of the sounds but failed to give

them any definition. His head occasionally broke through to air. "-ello --- buddy -------ope- dead" " thi--- -one -live- --amb-ance".

Fragments of speech caused further confusion as Dean floated in and out of reality. Eyes. Yellow eyes. Car. Gun. Smiling lips. Memory

and terror of an unnamable fear caused Dean to slide into full consciousness. Something had happened... they had been driving and then

there was nothing. Had he passed out in the car and they were in the hospital? Sam. Dad. No... If Dean were in the hospital, there would

not have been so much pain. Pain. Full consciousness had brought full awareness of the agony that gripped his body. All other thoughts

and feelings besides the pain were involuntarily pushed away. He wanted to scream from the agony of it but all he could hear his lips emit

was a dull groan. Excited voices began bombarded him from every direction. "Han- -on -an -ear me?" If only they would speak slower,

why the hell were they talking so fast? A fresh wave of pain washed over Dean and he allowed himself to flow away with it. Dean awoke

again as he felt cold air hit his face. Someone was shining a light in his eyes. "Hey buddy, you are going to be alright.. can you tell me what

hurts?" If Dean hadn't been in so much pain he would have laughed at the question. Tears or blood rolled down his face as he waited;

they immobilized his neck and he felt himself being lifted. He couldn't turn his head to see what became of his family. He awoke again in

the ambulance in the crushing grip of torture from his wounds. "Where is Sam and Dad?" Dean tried to ask through

the oxygen mask. At that moment it didn't occur to him that anyone could not know them. "We are two minutes out, hang in there buddy'.

The paramedic kept talking to him and Dean listened to her words because the words were outside the fist of pain in which he was kept.

Three ambulances and several police cars pulled onto the scene shortly before dawn. The early morning commuter who had

discovered the mangled wreckage stood uncomfortably in his suit with his arms crossed in front of him. The paramedics quickly

descended upon the accident as the police secured the area and questioned the man. Two paramedics approached the smaller vehicle

and shone their flashlights inside. The driver of the car was missing and the two other occupants were both motionless. All doors of the

car were crushed as to make it nearlyimpossible to remove the victims. The paramedics were puzzled at the oddity of the missing driver

but pushed forwards to care for the other two victims. They couldn't get to the man who was in the back seat without using the jaws to

extract him from the vehicle. As the fire crews readied the equipment a paramedic checked the man in the passenger seat. "This one's

dead". The attention of both emergency workers snapped to the second victim as he emitted a nearly inaudible groan. "Hang in there

buddy! Hurry up with the Jaws!"

The first on scene police officer quickly read the account of the man who had called 911. He had dealt with some terrible

accidents over the years but this one bothered him more than any of the others had. The drivers of both vehicles were missing on scene.

They were waiting on dogs to search the surrounding countryside. While it appeared that the driver of the semi had simply gotten out of

his vehicle and left the door open the second driver had definately not just stepped out of the car. He bent his head down and closely

examined the shattered driver's window of what under close inspection revealed to be a Impala. The driver's door was crushed but

someone had smashed the window. He had at first thought the driver had discovered the door couldn't be opened and had kicked open

the window but something about the way the glass was broken didn't look quite right. Frustrated the police officer stepped away. The

crime scene guys would be here in twenty minutes to figure out exactly what had happened. Of the two victims, only one had survived

impact. If that man lived, there would be many questions for him to answer.

_A/N- If I get enough of a response to this (there are so many of these), then I will continue to update this story._


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: I am sorry about the paragraphing being difficult to read, I can't seem to get ff to let there be spaces between them._

**The detective** pored over the accident photographs and accompanying reports with a furrowed brow. The facts were slowly coming together. The semi had collided with the

unsuspecting Impala and sometime in the near aftermath of the crash the driver of the larger vehicle had fled the scene. The driver of the car was also missing from scene and

definitely injured. The detective thumbed through a manila folder until he found what he was looking for. The lab results from blood samples collected from the Impala came up with

three separate donors, all closely related. The DNA evidence suggested the victims were two brothers and their father. That information wasn't unusual until he factored in the other

pieces of evidence. He puzzled over the entire situation. The case was still at the stage were it appeared hopelessly entangled.

The detective was fully aware that this was no simple accident. He had a box of evidence that suggested something more complicated was going on, he removed a large Ziploc full

of fake ID's that included police badges, driver's licenses, various government idents, and a few passports. All in all the fake identification spanned 16 states and displayed

photographs of the same two young men. There hadn't been any identification (fake or otherwise) for the deceased. He sighed and placed the idents to the side. The detective

pulled out the antiquated pistol from the box and turned it over in his hands. Lab reports came back that it had been recently fired, and that there was one round remaining in the

chamber. An ballpark estimate by a colleague who collected antique guns suggested the weapon was worth around twenty grand. Again he had to ask what the hell was going on?

If someone wanted to shoot somebody else, all he needed was fifty bucks and a trip downtown to buy a cheap gun. Another piece of unexplainable evidence was a journal full of

rambling, incoherent descriptions of satanic creatures and bogeymen. It reminded him of something his gothic teenage daughter would have. He again examined the photographs of

the driver's side of the car. The crime scene guys had autopsied the Impala and had confirmed that the door had never opened after the collision. In fact, the report indicated that the

driver had never attempted to leave the vehicle at all. Forensics discovered a cleanly cut seat belt and broken glass on the inside of the vehicle, suggesting that the window had been

broken from the outside and that the driver had been forcibly removed. The detective pinched the bridge of his nose in fatigue, he then picked his cell phone of the table and

proceeded to call the city hospital to inquire on the status of the only surviving victim.

Six Days Later

He cracked his eyes open and glanced about the room through his lashes. It was broad daylight but Dean didn't want to get up yet. The previous drive must have been harder on

him than he had thought because all he wanted to do was slip back into his deep dreamless sleep. He was curious as to why Sam hadn't woken him already as his little brother took

a special pleasure in being in an annoyingly good mood in the godless hours of the morning. Slowly an uneasy sensation settled in Dean's stomach. Something was off. The sunlight

streaming through the half curtained window was not a sharp, early morning light, but a heavier, drowsier afternoon light. Dean forced his eyes open and took in his surroundings, he

was not in a motel with Sam. He was in what appeared to be a hospital room, a room which he shared with an elderly man who lay dozing as a muted daytime talk show played on

a TV in the corner of the room. Sam. Where was he? Or his dad for that matter. Dean tried to remember anything he could through the pounding that had begun in his head. He

remembered that the Demon had escaped. He remembered that Sam had been driving him and his father to the hospital. He felt relief settle his nerves. He must have passed out on

the way to the hospital. Sam must have gone down to the cafeteria or was visiting his dad. It was too bad that they didn't have the same room. Dean suddenly felt exhausted, sleep

pulling at the edges of vision. He would just sleep and Sam would be there when he woke up.

Sam was floating. That was the only way he could describe the sensations he was currently experiencing. There wasn't any pain. He was alone, swaying gently as he was rocked

back and forth by the motion of the water. Sam lay there languidly although some small part of him knew that something was wrong. He couldn't bring himself to care. Sam briefly

wondered why Dean and his Dad weren't with him but his mind wouldn't let him linger on one subject for any extended period of time. Instead he watched as clouds lazily circled

above him. This continued in a timeless fashion before something changed. He felt the movement of the water stop. It was as if Sam had washed up on a beach, but he was unable

to turn his head to see where he was. Everything had changed. Sam screamed as starbursts of pain exploded behind his eyes and he sat bolt upright, ready to fight for his life against

whoever or whatever was attacking him.

Dean awoke again with the sensation that a great deal of time had passed. He quickly found the source of what had awakened him. A nurse was at his side and was adjusting a

drip that wound its way down to his forearm. He was surprised that Sam was still not with him. "Hey.." He tried say to her but was unable to make any sound but a sort of feeble

wheezing. She glanced down at him in pleased surprise. "You're awake! Don't try to talk hun, you have a feeding tube down your throat and a respirator tube down your nasal

passage." Dean obeyed, newly aware of the equipment that was inside his body. He was frustrated, how could he ask about his Dad? And where was Sam? His earlier feeling of

dread had returned tenfold. He blinked up at her helplessly. "I am going to page the doctor for you hun, but first I need to ask you some questions. They are relatively simple ones,

just blink twice for yes and once for no okay?" Dean blinked twice in affirmation. The middle-aged woman smiled brightly at him, "That's perfect". She made her way to the bottom

of his bed and removed his chart. "Okay, now I am going to put pressure on your toes and you need to let me know if you feel it." Dean felt panic course through his veins at the

images her words provoked. What exactly had the Demon done to him? "Do you feel anything?" Dean felt her squeeze the top of his left foot. He blinked twice, his body flooding

with relief. It continued this way for some time. The nurse asking him various but similar questions while Dean was bursting with questions of his own. He hated being so helpless.

He couldn't help but be relieved that she wasn't asking him any questions about what had happened. Dean wasn't sure what story Sam had told the hospital staff and didn't want to

answer anything more complicated until they had their stories straight. For Dean had decided that Sam had to be in the hospital somewhere… it was possible that Dean had missed

him again because visiting hours had ended or some such nonsense. Dean had no option but to cling to that belief. Sam was in the hospital… and he would just have to wait to

confirm it when he was able to speak.

The detective pulled into the parking lot of the small restaurant, stomach rumbling at the prospect of a long delayed lunch. Inevitably, his cell phone went off. After briefly

considering not picking up, he answered the phone. "Nolan". "Yes Detective Nolan, this is Kirsten from St. Mary's hospital calling, you wished to be notified when the ah.. John

Doe #2 from last week regained consciousness." Detective Nolan immediately forgot his hunger, "Yes, thank you." He snapped his cell phone shut and pulled back onto the main

road.

_A/N- Tell me what you think. There will me more_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N -The newest installment of Beginning. Enjoy.-ljae_

**Something **was wrong. Hands grabbed him in the dark. He tried to get upand fight back through pain laced limbs but felt someone strike him. A light turned on. Sam couldn't move at all anymore. Sam forced his eyes open and balled his fists. A figure blocked the light and simultaneously he felt a pinprick on his arm. Sam was dimly aware of something that covered his mouth and nose.

The figure wavered in his focus now. The person moved out of the light and Sam was nearly blinded. He turned his head to one side to avoid the glare. He observed the side of the room without taking anything in. The panicked feeling in his gut told him that something was very wrong. He gasped as his head was moved back so he was staring into the light. Sam blinked lazily, desperately attempting to stay awake.

He didn't know how he knew, but Sam knew that it was important he stayed awake, he knew he was supposed to see something. He didn't have any room in his mind for anything else. With whatever vestiges of strength he had remaining Sam forced his head to the side again. Through confused and blurred eyes Sam caught a brief glimpse; a door inside a door and a glowing red sign. A rough hand grasped his jaw and forced his head away. He began to feel a mild burning in his forearm and he soon found he could no longer keep his eyes open. Sam's clenched fists relaxed as he slipped into oblivion.

He awoke suddenly, extremely thirsty and with a massive headache. He kept trying to remember what had happened but couldn't remember farther than loading his brother into the back of the car. It was clear that something had gone terribly wrong. He sat up and groaned involuntarily. God his head. He touched it tentatively and his hand came away tacky with blood. He gently probed the wound, discovering a new addition of several neat stitches.

He blinked in confusion. Sam glanced about himself, trying to get his bearings. This room was no motel room, nor was it a hospital room. A single light bulb illuminated the enclosed space. Sam's first thought was that he was dreaming, or that this was a vision. Sam wished it were that simple, but past experience told him that this was genuine. No dream, vision or hallucination had ever been this vivid. The walls were painted an off white color and the cell-like room was devoid of all furnishing or embellishments save a door without a handle and a bucket of water.

Sam made for it immediately upon discovery. It was bolted to the floor so he made a makeshift cup with his hands and gulped it greedily. Sam sat back on his haunches as he caught his wavering reflection in the water, he looked like death warmed over. Turning away from his battered image, Sam focused his attention on the only exit to the room. Without a doubt it would be locked. He pushed against it experimentally and any feeble hopes he had were squashed. What the hell was going on? Sam knocked on the door, testing its strength.

Whatever it was, it was reinforced. He stepped back a moment, overcome with a feeling of intense helplessness. Sam took a deep breath. The walls were closing in on him. Sam felt the panic rising in his throat like too many shots of tequila. He had no way of getting out of here. Were Dean and Dad in other rooms like his own? He had to get out of here. Sam had to get to his family. The room was small, but Sam backed to wall furthest from the door and charged, dropping his shoulder at the appropriate moment. He slammed into the door at the best speed he could manage, crying out in pain upon impact. It didn't budge. Stars of pain danced in Sam's vision and he saw black creeping into the edges. Maybe not the best idea. Tears of pain and frustration began to gather in eyes and Sam smashed his fists into the door again and again. "Let me out! LET ME OUT!" Sam continued his assault on the door as his voice bounced back into his face.

**Dean** relaxed onto the pillow after the tubes were extricated from his throat and nose. He mentally jotted the recent experience as one he didn't want to repeat. The doctor stood at the end of the bed and flipped through his chart, making various marks on the paper. Dean tested his voice but when he tried to speak, to ask if his family was alright all that he heard was a louder version of his regular breathing. The doctor's eyes flicked upwards and met his. " You will be unable to speak for some time. Please don't attempt to talk until for at least a few hours."

Again Dean tried to speak, and this time he managed a faint rasping. Irritated, the male doctor looked at him again. "Believe me, I would love for you to answer many questions, including how you received your particular chest …. Lacerations, in a car accident. But this isn't something that can be rushed. You are also on a heavy painkiller and I want to ask you questions when you are coherent.". Dean's eyes narrowed in a frustrated glare. God this guy was thick. A nurse tapped Dean on the shoulder and Dean turned his eyes to her, "If you can hold a pen, do you want to try to write what you want to say?", she offered sympathetically.

Dean managed a small smile through cracked lips to indicate his assent. He feltwarm plastictouch his fingers and grasped it. Even this small movement sent pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder. Dean ignored his discomfort, his mind again brimming with desperate questions about his brother and father. Dean felt something flat and hard pressing down onto the bed next to him and although he couldn't really move his head far enough to see what it was, he assumed it was a something he could write on.

He soon discovered he had pathetic control of his digits and Dean hoped to God that the one word he had scrawled was legible. The doctor tilted his head to the side and squinted "Family?". Dean's eyes locked onto his. "I wasn't on when you were brought into the ER, I can have Candice inquire at the front desk for you." The red-haired nurse glanced downwards meditatively and then back at the doctor, " That's not necessary doctor, I was on that morning, the-". She was cut off as someone knocked on the door.

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration as the someone entered without waiting for an answer to the knock. The man was middle-aged and neatly dressed in a somewhat conservative way. Dean knew without him speaking that he was a cop. The sinking feeling had returned to his gut. "Afternoon, Doctor. Detective Nolan.If you are just about finished, I would love to have a chat with the lucky survivor." The detective flashed his badge.

The doctor stood, "Well, he has just had tubing removed and will be incapable of speaking for some time" The cop flashed a practiced smile, one that Dean recognized as similar to one of his own. "I'm sure that we will find some way of communicating." The doctor glanced at his watch and nodded, "Alright," He turned to Dean, "If you required any assistance, please press the call button and Candice will help you out." Dean could have ground his teeth in annoyance but didn't want to show the cop that he was nervous. He wished he knew what story Sam or his dad had fed the hospital, or whether or not they had told any story at all.

The detective seemed utterly comfortable in Dean's room. He glanced at the now empty bed on the other side of the room and flipped through Dean's chart before pulling a chair close to his bedside. The detective moved the call button out of Dean's reach. Dean badly wanted to press it and ask the nurse for more painkillers to treat the sudden pain in his ass. The cop still held onto the chart and continued to look through it.

After a moment, "You know Dean, I have so many questions for you that I can barely decide where to start." Dean started at the use of his real name. "Yes I'm assuming that is your name, although they have you down as John Doe." He paused, and Dean was grateful that he was unable to speak. "I found a lot of interesting things in that car, Dean… some of which could put you in prison for- say, what is this?" Dean followed his line of sight and found the detective looking at his note. "Family eh? They didn't tell you what happened to them?" Dean felt like he was falling.

_A/N -Love it? Hate it? Need more? I'm not that sensitive, tell me what you think.-ljae_


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